Waiting for him
by ScarletEvolution
Summary: 'And for once, Raph was real glad Leo always stayed up so late waiting for him.' - After what seems like a fairly average fight, Raph goes topside to beat up thugs. A sneak attack leaves him bleeding to death. As he struggles to get home, Raph reflects on his relationships with his brothers. This is no longer a battle between life and death, but a battle fought inside his mind.
1. Chapter 1

There had been another fight. It was almost routine now. Leo had ever so helpfully pointed out that Raph had charged into another fight without thinking. Raph had ever so helpfully pointed out that Leo was an asshole.

Mikey had slipped silently from the room, and, as per usual, Donnie quietly opened the lab door to let him in. Even Master Splinter had retreated to his room, happy to sit this one out if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with Raph's inevitable back-chat.

It was a fairly average argument. But Raph stormed out, nonetheless, because that was the way things worked. He'd be back, Leo knew, early in the morning, perhaps with a few bruises, a cut or two at the worst. Didn't stop him from slumping onto the couch, the clock ticking away like a reminder that Leo still wasn't good enough.

"Why doesn't he just kick me off the team anyway? If it's so obvious I'm useless." Raph grumbled, kicking a trashcan out of the way.

A short and strangled cry rang out from a few streets away, and Raph flew towards the sound, instantly magnetized by the prospect of a new fight. Adrenaline was already pumping through his veins when he arrived at the scene.

Looked like another mugging. One carried a metal pipe, and was beating it threateningly against the palm of his hand. Raph recognized the guys. Fairly new to the criminal underbelly, Raph had seen them once before, on patrol with his brothers. Though, judging by the new threads, they'd moved up a few notches in the food chain.

"You prefer to walk away now, or get carried outta here on a stretcher?" Raph asked, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.

"Hey, it's that turtle-thing!" The leader exclaimed, turning his attention away from the victim. "What'sa matter? The other freaks forget about you or something?"

"Nah. Sometimes I prefer goin' solo." Raph lunged forward, ignoring the twist of sadness in his gut. His sai locked with the man's thin metal pipe.

"Means my brothers ain't here to hold me back."

With a grunt, Raph turned his sai inwards. The pipe snapped. There was a satisfied smirk on Raph's face as the two pieces fell to the ground. A look of shock passed over the gang-member's crude features.

Raph gave him a nasty dragon-kick into a dumpster.

Another criminal with a set of chains rushed forward, eager to prove himself against the terrapin. Raph shot him a wicked half-grin, and let the chains wrap around his sai. He jerked them downwards until the man's face met his knee.

He fell backwards, nose crushed and spurting blood. Raph snorted. Looked like the asshat was about to faint. Turning to the final man, Raph cricked his neck. The man gulped.

"Mugging innocent people? What would ya mother say?" Raph twirled his sai.

"Don't have a mother no more." The thug muttered, a large switchblade hanging uncertainly from his hand.

Raph felt a tiny stab of guilt. Leo would probably still be up. He guessed this low-life probably wouldn't have anyone waiting up on him.

With a sharp shake of his head, Raph dismissed this sudden feeling of pity. The man lay unconscious on the ground before he knew what hit him.

_Click._

Raph leapt out of the way. A jolt of adrenaline shocked through him, his body reacting before his mind even registered the noise.

The hammer of a gun being cocked.

Apparently, it wasn't quick enough. The white-hot pain of a bullet tearing through flesh rushed up his leg. A shuriken pierced the thug's throat.

He wouldn't be shooting anybody anymore.

Raph grimaced, breaths heavy and uneven as the blood poured from the wound. Reaching up, he untied his bandanna to staunch the flow. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he limped toward the nearest manhole cover.

The turtle heaved the heavy chunk of metal aside, a frustrated growl escaping his throat. It shouldn't take so much effort. He couldn't stop the cry of pain as he landed awkwardly in the sewers, jolting his bad leg. Raph limped homeward, ignoring the shaking in his hands, as he leant heavily against the brick walls.

"Shit."

Light-headedness was starting to set in. From blood-loss or shock, Raph couldn't tell. The wound was worse than he had first thought, and as he slumped to the floor, vision doubling, his worst fears were confirmed. The mask was soaked through entirely, and the blood was already spurting down his leg.

"Musta nicked a vein or sumthin'." Raph told himself, his voice muggy and unfamiliar.

With aching limbs, the terrapin pulled the mask further up his leg, slipping a sai through the loop and pulling it into a tourniquet. The effort exhausted Raph, and his head fell back against the slimy bricks. It would be so easy to just lie here until the tourniquet stopped working. His brothers weren't expecting him back for another few hours at least. In any case, they wouldn't go looking for him until the next day at the earliest. If they went looking at all.

Besides, it couldn't hurt to rest, just for a little while…

No! Raph couldn't, _wouldn't_ die here, alone and half-delirious in some dirty tunnel. With a low keening of pain, Raph eased himself up off the floor. Pain, lightning-fast, and sharp as poison sped up his leg. Raph grimaced again, nausea setting in. He blinked. Only a few minutes away…

It was a slow and painful march, interspersed with grunts of anguish and laboured breathing. Sweat clouded his eyes, salty and stinging. Raph didn't mind. _This_ pain was almost sweet.

A sudden realisation hit him. What if he _did_ die here? An odd sense of déjà vu washed over Raph. He had been near death several times before; and every time, all he could think about was his brothers.

How Donnie stitched up his wounds without fail, but never got so much as a thank-you. How Mikey only ever tried to make him smile, and only ever got bruises instead. How Leo tried, tried so _hard_ to be perfect, for them, for _him_, but somehow Raph could never try to be anything but angry.

How Raph's last words to his only older brother, were full of a hate he had never deserved.

"No." Raph stumbled, his head glancing against the sewer wall. Stars, white and blinding, exploded in front of his eyes.

Raph slid part-way down the wall, the rough bricks grazing his arm and the side of his head. If he squinted, Raph reckoned he could see the entrance to the lair.

Wouldn't it be ironic to come so close, only to fall, mere feet from salvation.

Maybe it would've been better if Leo _had_ kicked him off the team. He could've died fighting in a nice, dark alley, and saved them the torture of waking up to his bled-out body. He knew they wouldn't mourn him. Why should they? All he'd ever done was cause them pain. Even... even as kids they'd been wary of him. Played too rough and hit too hard. At least he'd kept them safe.

But what about later? A time after now. When Raph was gone and they were still fighting?

Who'd protect them?

Raph's thoughts swirled around in his head, thin tendrils of consciousness that he couldn't quite catch. Like trying to hold onto smoke.

Who'd protect them?

All he knew was that he needed to get to the lair, even if he couldn't put his finger on why. And he wanted to sleep. God, did he want to sleep. Sleep? His brothers would be asleep. Raph would be the furthest thing from their minds. It would all be for nothing. So why did he keep lurching forward?

Raph fell to his knees and started crawling, torturously slow, through the filth. There was a doorway in the middle of nowhere (when had he pressed the hidden button to make it open?) and Raph clawed his way up the side of it.

It was then, dry-retching, bleeding to death, and covered in a thin layer of raw sewage, that Raphael fell headfirst into the lair.

"Raph?!"

And for once, Raph was real glad Leo always stayed up so late waiting for him.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Someone asked me to do this, and at first I was like errrmmm... but then I sat down, and began writing, and I really liked how this turned out._

_Disclaimer: Me nay own turtles._

* * *

><p>"Raph!?"<p>

"Raph! Guys! DONNIE! No, don't do this to me Raphael."

The words - his words - played through Leo's mind like the recording of a bad nightmare. His brother, always so strong, always so..._ Raph_. Lying on the ground, cold and wet and covered in blood. Raph was taken away, rushed into the infirmary by Don and Master Splinter, leaving Leo in a puddle of blood that was not his own. Even Mikey couldn't crack a smile.

It wasn't even the worst injury Raphael had ever sustained. It wasn't the first time he'd been shot at this month, or even this week. It didn't stop the paralysing fear that splintered through Leonardo's chest; icicles of pain that filled his lungs with a cold kind of fire.

_I should've... I would've... I could've..._

_I've failed._

_This is all my fault._

_This is all my fault._

This wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

><p>It was, quite frankly, a fairly average fight. But Raph stormed out nonetheless, because that was the way things worked. He'd be back, Leo knew, early in the morning, perhaps with a couple of bruises, a cut or two at the worst. Didn't stop Leo slumping onto the couch, the clock ticking away like a reminder that he still wasn't good enough.<p>

And the worst thing was the familiarity of it all. Tick-tock. Just as familiar as his heart-beat. The anxiety an old friend. And Leo wished so badly to break out of the volatile cycle. To run out after his brother and fall to his knees and beg for Raph never to leave them again. To never run out and get into fights and come home wearing battle-scars like a badge of defiance.

But what could Leo do?

This was a competition, and the rules must be observed.

* * *

><p>It was Mikey's warm touch that finally dragged him back into the present.<p>

"Leo? Don't worry. He'll be okay."

Leo blinked. Since when had Mikey become the comforter, and he the one being comforted? With a shuddering breath, Leo got to his feet. He had to be strong now, for his family.

_Pull yourself together._

But how could he, when part of him was trapped in the past, staring at the clock, and another part of him was lingering in the other room, watching Don work, and yet another part of him was living in the darkest corners of his mind, playing out the worst scenarios, scene by twisted scene.

"It's Raph. Of course he'll be okay." Leo said softly.

Mikey closed his eyes against the unspoken words._ He has to be._ Leaning heavily against each other, the pair made their way to the couch. The youngest turned on the TV, but it was just background noise to the thoughts inside their heads. Master Splinter emerged from the infirmary, and gently rested a paw on each of his son's shoulders. They turned to look at him, hope and desperation mingling in their eyes.

"I have done all I can. It is up to Donatello now."

Leo swallowed hard. "How is he?"

"Stable. Do not fret my sons. Your brother is a fighter. He will pull through."

Mikey gave a smile that wasn't a smile, and blinked away the tears. He had always been described as one of the more emotional of the brothers - it was one of the reasons he was considered the 'baby' of the family. Leo preferred to keep his emotions under lock and key. He and Raphael were alike in this way.

Raphael. No matter how hard Leo tried focusing on other things - the television, how Mikey was coping, how all his thoughts seemed to blur in his head - his thoughts always came back to Raph.

"He's going to be okay."

Don's familiar voice cut through the deafening silence. All of them crowded towards the other room. Leo was only able to spare a thought to how exhausted Donatello looked, before he saw Raphael; solid, and real, and undeniably breathing.

Donnie sighed. "He's going to be okay. But I don't know how long it'll be until he wakes up."

That night, Leo jerked awake in a mess of cold sweat and pillow-muffled screams. When the tears finally began to fall, hot and fast, they were the most selfish kind.

_I want you back, Raphael._

Leonardo did not often have nightmares bad enough to drive him from his bedroom. But when he did, there was only one brother strong enough to fight away his demons.

Leo had never so badly missed Raph's chainsaw-like snoring in his ear.

* * *

><p><em>AN: What did you think? I have plans for a third chappie (the finale) and I guess I'll continue, reviews or not. But it would be nice to have reviews. REVIEW ME! Pleeease? I know the end could be interpreted as t-cest, but I can assure you, it's just brotherly love._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry for not doing this quicker. This one's long. Like, stupid long. I had it all planned, and then I went to post this other one-shot, and I ended up managing to delete it three times (do __**not**__ even ask) and so I was pretty pissed off at my computer. I wouldn't go as far as to say I had a mental break-down, but yeah, something with a lot of yelling and face-planting-into-my-keyboard._

_Disclaimer: Don't own turtles. Don't sue me. Don't have 'nuff money to pay. Don't you guys have enough money, anyway?_

* * *

><p><em>There had been another fight<em>. Raph remembered. _It was almost routine, now._ His eyelids were heavy. Like lead. _Leo had ever so helpfully pointed out that Raph had charged into another fight without thinking._ Scratch that. His whole body felt heavy._ Raph had ever so helpfully pointed out that Leo was an asshole._

Raph remembered.

* * *

><p><em>The teasing was relentless.<em>

_"S-stop it. It's n-not funny anymore."_

_For his stutter._

_"Stop it!"_

_"Is Raphie getting angry?"_

_For his temper. Raph had always had a short fuse. But it had never been too bad. Instead, his brothers found it funny. His temper tantrums had been a great source of entertainment as toddlers._

_"Stop it or I'll f-fight you!"_

_"But your form is terrible."_

_Matter-of-fact. Tear-jerking._

_For never having handwriting quite so neat as Donnie. For not being energetic, happy, like Michelangelo. For never quite perfecting his kata, like Leo. For not being smart enough. For not being fast enough. For not being strong enough._

_For not being good enough._

_They didn't **mean** to make him cry. Make him run off into the sewers. Make him hide, because he couldn't let them see how much it hurt._

_How **weak** it made him feel._

_Master Splinter had tried to put a stop to it, of course. But Raphael would wipe away his tears, and bare his little teeth, and promise death to anybody who dared to try and help him. It was that hatred of being helped that drove him to the surface, that day. He wouldn't, couldn't be seen as weak. As much as his master tried to tell him otherwise, there was one lesson he'd learnt at a very young age._

_Emotion is weakness. Weakness is death._

_And then he was up in the night air, and there was a scream, but instead of being scared, his blood pumped, and he ran towards the noise, and then there were shadows, and growls, and a hand clamped over a pretty little face, and Raph's defiant challenge, and a yell, and then, and then..._

_Guns. Shots. Ricocheting off cold brick walls. There was a manhole, and he fell down it, a tangle of limbs and fear._

_When he finally crawled back to the Lair, they were waiting for him._

_"Raphie!? What happened?" Three brothers rushed towards him, wide eyes full of apologies, and couldn't they see he wanted to be alone right now?_

_"You look terrible." Donnie said. It was meant as a question. As sympathy._

_So Raph didn't understand what happened next._

_He didn't know why his little hand balled into a fist. He didn't know why everything went red. He didn't know why a beast came out of him. He didn't know why it roared so. He hadn't even known it **existed.**_

_All he knew was that, for the adrenaline-fuelled second his fist met flesh, they weren't teasing him anymore._

* * *

><p>Raph swallowed and his mouth tasted of dust and regret. For a moment, the black was gone, replaced by a bright supernova of lights against his eyelids. He just needed to open his eyes. But sleep was tugging at him, dark and welcoming at the corners of his semi-consciousness.<p>

He was dragged back under.

* * *

><p><em>Leo was panicking.<em>

_"Why did you do that?"_

_It was his tone of voice. It set Raph on edge._

_"Do what?" It came out as a snarl._

_"You know what!? You tipped the Foot off to our position, charged into the fight, and didn't retreat when I told you to!"_

_Raph replayed the evening. Mikey's teasing. The blood, pounding louder and louder in his head. The inevitable explosion. The swarm of Foot soldiers. The angry drone of Leo's voice, but Raph ignored it because didn't he see that one ninja about to get Mikey when his back was turned? The fight that followed. The call to retreat. The reluctance, because if he didn't let his anger out now, there would be another explosion._

_There always was._

_"It was Mikey's fault! If he hadn't been gettin' on my nerves like that..."_

_"Don't you **dare** blame this on Mikey. One of these days, you're going to get one of us killed!"_

_Raph gritted his teeth._

_Not if he could help it._

* * *

><p>Raphael struggled against the memories, but they came thick and fast. Relentlessly. Mistake after mistake, fuck-up after fuck-up. Raph had ripped this family apart time and again, and there was nothing he could do about it.<p>

There should be.

Master Splinter had often told him that one must forgive themselves in order to ask others to forgive them. But how could he? Every apology (if there even_ was_ one) was just a precursor to the next mistake. Every outburst was treated like it was normal, and how sick was that?

How could he, when Raph was ripping open new wounds before the old ones could even be stitched up?

* * *

><p><em>It was midnight and the rooftops were cold and why was Raph so angry?<em>

* * *

><p>"Raph?"<p>

That voice. Familiar.

Leo.

"Raph, please wake up."

He was_ trying._

"We need you."

Liar.

* * *

><p><em>Leo's hand had scythed through the air, but Raph was too slow, too weak, to catch it him.<br>__Master Splinter's face was a mask of disappointment; one Raphael knew he'd never be able to see beneath.  
>There was blood on his face that didn't belong to him; why had he never noticed what an ugly colour red was?<br>Mikey's face went from happy to scared, as he realised just how tight the noose of Raph's fingers was tied around his throat._

* * *

><p>Not good enough. Never good enough.<p>

"Just fucking wake up!"

The anger in Leonardo's voice was so shocking that it jolted him up from his memories.

"Was that a swear-word, Splinter jnr?"

* * *

><p>Why wasn't he waking up? It had been a full twenty-four hours. He should be awake by now! <em>Okay, calm. In. Out. Breathe.<em>

Don said to give it time. Master Splinter had remarked that it might not _just_ be his injuries that Raph was fighting against. Whatever that meant.

But this was Raphael. Raph, who walked away from this kind of thing proclaiming it was just a scratch. Well, he'd never made it_ all_ the way without help. Also, he didn't usually have an, what was it again, 'arterial bleed.' Or a concussion. And if he did, his brothers were usually there, and...

Leo needed to calm down. _In. Out. Breathe._

Raph had survived worse. Been unconscious longer. Like that time Hun had picked up a chunk of rock and flung it at Leo. Ralph had knocked him out of the way, only to get the full impact himself. A cracked shell and three weeks in a coma that was all Leo's fault.

_In. Out. Breathe._

A twitch, Raph's fingers jerking against his own.

"Raph?"

Silence.

"Raph, please wake up."

Then whispered.

"We need you."

Another minute passed, before Leo heard a strangled gasp. Hope so sweetly torturous it drove Leo half to insanity.

"Just fucking wake up!"

Leo buried his head in Raph's plastron and listened to the steady beating of his heart. It was just like when they were kids, and had shared a bed. That familiar rhythm had been the only thing that could get Leo to sleep.

"Was that a swear-word, Splinter jnr?"

Leo's head jerked up. And it was his brother, eyes cracked open and already struggling to sit up. Leonardo threw his arms around Raph, allowing himself this one moment of complete break-down if it meant he could hold his little brother again.

"Gerroff."

_Shove._

Not so little anymore. Or ever, really. Then, the anger set in.

"What were you thinking!?"

"Thugs. Mugging. Bad. Get 'em." Raph checked them off on his fingers, his voice still hoarse.

"Did you know they had guns? Did you even bother casing out their weaponry?"

It was déjà vu. They both knew exactly how this would play out. But Leo found himself unable to stop.

"What were you thinking, rushing into a fight like that? You could've been killed!"

Quieter. Sadder.

"You could've been killed."

A moment of silence.

"So?"

* * *

><p><em>AN: And... it just turned into a four-shot. (Is that even a thing?) You know what I said to myself? I said 'only three chapters and that's final, you hear me?' My brain doesn't listen to my brain. That doesn't make sense. I'll shut up now._

_DON'T MAKE PROMISES YOU CAN'T KEEP, KIDS! _

_(Wait. If you're a kid, and this is fulla swearing...)_


End file.
